Six firefighters in deep blue dress uniforms stood on either side of the hearse carrying Donna L. Smith Friday afternoon at Woodlawn Cemetery. It was drizzling with a cold bite to the air.

James Nani

NEW WINDSOR -- Six firefighters in deep blue dress uniforms stood on either side of the hearse carrying Donna L. Smith Friday afternoon at Woodlawn Cemetery.

It was drizzling with a cold bite to the air.

With clean white gloves and hats, the men gently carried Smith to her final resting place among the leafless trees, raindrops and the smell of pine. Beneath two green awnings and black umbrellas, friends and family members huddled together. Firefighters. Girl Scouts. Pastors, loyal churchgoers and strangers.

And just like the day the train went off the tracks, Donna's sister Linda Smith wouldn't leave her side.

The two were together when the speeding Metro-North train flew off the tracks early Sunday morning in the Bronx, throwing Donna from the train but leaving Linda to walk away with bruises and a broken heart.

They were rarely apart. The two went on cruises together and sang choir together. From karate class to cross-stitch, they and their closest friends made life a group activity that only grew stronger as they became adults.

More than 200 people attended the funeral at the Brooks Funeral Home in Newburgh. The 60-plus car funeral procession Friday snaked through the City of Newburgh slowly with a police escort, past Newburgh Free Academy where she graduated high school, blocks away from her Third Street home she was planning to renovate just a few days before, through the only city Donna ever really knew as home.

"There were so many more people than we would have expected," said Linda Smith. "I was just amazed."

Those who came all played their parts. Supporters. Protectors. Listeners. They represented a smattering of the people that Donna Smith's life touched. Linda said those who spoke at the funeral told stories about Donna: anecdotes from their days as camp counselors or funny quips from Thanksgiving, just last week.

Almost a week later, Linda has held up as well as anyone could hope to.

"It's very sad. Right now she seems so strong," sad Ruth Miller, who knew both sisters through the Cronomer Valley Fire Department Women's Auxiliary.

Typically on Saturday, just like every week, the sisters would have called each other in the afternoon, Smith said. The usual. Don't feel like cooking. Want to go out for dinner? Sit at Barnes & Noble and read? Spend too much money shopping?

But with her sister buried, the reality will begin to set in. The pace had kept her distracted. The media attention reinforced the feeling that it was all happening to someone else.

"I was oblivious to the scope of this whole thing," Smith said after the funeral, among close ones at the Cronomer Valley Fire Department.

Though Linda has been strong, closing the curtain just hasn't sunk in yet.

"It's like this is a play and I'm just a cast member," she said.

Donna shouldn't be defined by just that Sunday morning, her sister said. She was a full person with a full life. Not a one-dimensional victim but a full actor in life, giving back and living it well. That was not forgotten by those who said goodbye to her.

"All I can say is that the big man upstairs has a good angel with him now," said Resto.